


We're Young And We're Dumb, And You're All I Know

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Hufflepuff!Scott, M/M, Slytherin!Stiles, v brief malia and stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-15
Updated: 2015-05-15
Packaged: 2018-03-30 14:43:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3940708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They meet one fateful day on the Hogwart's Express, and Scott and Stiles are inseparable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We're Young And We're Dumb, And You're All I Know

They meet when they’re twelve.

Scott’s mother is peppering his full cheeks with kisses, hands holding him there. He doesn’t tell her it’s lame because she’s his mom, and he loves her as much as one can love their mother. Heavy trunk in hand, Scott does roll his eyes, replying reassurances. He even tells her in spanish, and for a few seconds it calms her down, but then she’s back to worrying and fiddling with his black curls.

“Mom, I’ll be fine. I promise.” She sighs, her darks curls seeming to heave with her chest. Her face is angular. One wouldn’t guess that Scott was her son with his soft skin and sweet dimples.

“You’ll send me an owl, right?” Her voice is serious and sounds very much like a mother in a way he can’t describe just yet.

“Is that even a question?” His voice is gentle, a calm in the storm of parents and kids saying goodbyes and being pushed in the direction of the train. His mother gives him a last, tight hug, as if to soak him in. She seems to forgets that he’ll be back in a few months for the holidays.

“Yes, now go get on the train before you’re late.” Voice filled with authority and eyes filled with blurry tears, she lets go of him and pushes him in the direction of the train, Hogwart's Express shining brightly. She does this motion as if she hadn’t held him at all, and he had been procrastinating going this whole time.

Trudging through the sea of kids, Scott finally gets into the train. Which, to no surprise, is crowded. There’s teenagers hanging out in the path, and there’s compartments that are overstuffed. Not only that, but it’s different than he had imagined. It’s smaller, more intimate. All of it is overwhelming, but in the way Scott thinks he can get use to. He has always been a fan of people, after all.

He doesn’t realise he’s been walking, and at this point, he realizes he’s near the end. The compartments seem quieter, although the murmur of people are still evident. In comparison to the front though, it seems like a ghost town. There’s a few people, but it’s nothing like the jostling crowd of people in the front.

“Hey, man, you can sit with me.” The voice breaks through his thoughts on how cold and how empty it was back there, his bones feeling as if the sun had shone on them when he heard this voice. Turning ever so slightly, Scott sees the owner of a voice.

He’s pale, probably paler than the moon, Scott imagines. His features are already sharp although he still has baby fat on his bones, limbs thin as he awkwardly waves. Dark brown hair buzzed all around, a wide grin on his face, and a look in his eyes that screams out scheming. Before Scott knows it, he’s nodding and going into the compartment.

“Stiles Stillinski,” He says, throwing a hand as if this is an everyday thing. It’s not awkward like how Scott throws his out too, but his actions seeming unnatural and almost robotic-like. Stiles doesn’t seem to care though as he shakes with all the gracefulness Scott lacks. It takes a second for the words to form in Scott’s mouth, for a reply to be able to play out. It’s loud and abrupt, but not in the same way.

“Scott McCall.”

Stiles grins like a maniac, tips of his mouth taking up a majority of his face. His eyes watching Scott, as if observing him. Scott grins too, doesn’t even realize he is until it’s too late to swallow it back down. And then he’s laughing, and Stiles is laughing too. But the thing is- Stiles isn’t laughing at him, and he knows that already. They’re just laughing because that’s what kids do.

That’s when Scott McCall and Stiles Stilinski realize they’re going to be best friends until hell freezes over.

 

_(It’s also the moment that Scott realizes that Stiles smile is a lot like the moon. It’s haunting and a bit too cold but still luminous. While Stiles thinks Scott is a bit like the sun. Too bright. And they’re both right, but it’s better that way.)_

 

* * *

 

The next year, Stiles slides into their compartment. This year he dropped his muggle band t-shirt for a Slytherin crested sweater with a crisp white button shirt. A pair of nice black slacks instead of blue jeans. Although his red hoodie is still in his hands. His hair is still buzzed, but the baby fat seemed to melt off a tiny bit, his cheeks starting to seem just a tad more hollow.

Scott spots him and starts howling. His best friend may look sophisticated, but Scott can tell Stiles is drowning in uncomfortableness. That he’d much rather be wearing his sweatshirt.

“I can’t believe you’re a Slytherin,” Scott finally says after sitting down, the laughter calming down at the base of his throat, gentle smile on his features.

Scott changed too. Although his hair still seems just as floppy and his grin is just as tooth-y. Scott was actually getting muscle, insisted that he work out this summer so he could make it on the Quidditch team. His hands were calloused too.

“And I can’t believe you’re a Hufflepuff,” Stiles huffs out, rolling his eyes as he runs a hand through the baldness of his hair. His words hold a taunting air to them, but it isn’t mean. Stiles never intends to be mean.

“Well, I am. Scott McCall, second year Hufflepuff who could kick your ass.” Scott juts out his hands, just as awkward as the year before, but this time he knows how it’ll play out. Knows that Stiles will shake his hand and accept him and not tell him out boxy his movements are.

“Stiles Stilinski, Slytherin, will kick your ass someday.” Scott’s eyes roll involuntary as his friend’s dramatics. “Cunning and ambitious, dude. Plus, you’re too loyal.”

“Loyal? To what?” For a second, Scott’s head tilts ever so slightly, confusion burrowing in his features as his brows scrunched together.

“You’ll figure it out eventually.” Stiles said, swaying a graceful, careless hand. Slight smirk playing in his voice as they both sat down, laying their limbs on cushions.

_(But Scott thinks he knows. He may have only known Stiles for a year, but there isn’t really a doubt in his mind what he’d do for Stiles. It was almost scary, the fact that he trusted a thirteen year old boy so much. Of course, it wasn’t actually scary though because it’s Stiles, and Scott has never been scared with Stiles. Not even when he saw the Kraken and nearly got trapped by the whomping willow.)_

 

* * *

 

 

 

********  
** **

Their third year, they meet each other on the platform, a fat grin on both of their faces. Scott’s shoulders have grown broader and he decide to trim his mop. He embrace Stiles in a warm hug, not an uncommon action for the two of them. He pats Stiles back, and Stiles mirrors the action before letting go. It takes a second before Stiles gestures to a man behind him.

“This is my dad, head Aurora in Godric’s Hollow.” Stiles’ face beams proudly, and his father just shakes his head as he steps forward. There’s a sense of amusement on his features, and Scott can see the resemblance already.

“Scott McCall, Sir.” Scott’s voice is polite and pristine. He places his hand out, straightening his back. He’d never met Stiles’ father, just in the same way his mom had never met Stiles. It was like those two worlds had never collided, although they wrote each other all throughout the summer.

“I’ve heard much about you.” Mister Stilinski, his voice just as amused as his features. Although his words make Scott squirm just a bit. His grip is firm and dominant.

“Hey, Dad, we gotta go. Make sure to eat alright, okay?” Stiles’s words were slick and sharp as it cut through the silence, although the Head Auror and Scott still were connected. Stiles is already pulling Scott by his shoulder. His dad yells something to him, that sounds a lot like, ‘stay out of trouble.’ Stiles just smirks as he gently shoves his friend.

“We didn’t have to go,” Scott points out after a second, confusion evident in his voice as he kept walking, Stiles hand still on his shoulder. This makes Stiles shake his head and cluck his tongue.

“If I was going to meet your mom, we did.” Scott’s jaw goes slack because holy crap, that cunning bastard. It’s no shock he was Slytherin. Oh, but it doesn’t stop then because in a second, they’re standing in front of his mother who is talking to some other parent.

“Hello, Ms. McCall. I’m Stiles Stilinski, your son’s best friend.” Stiles words are sweetly tripping over there, and Scott knows he’s doing it to seem innocent. As if to show that he wasn’t the one who got Scott three detentions last year.

“Please, Stiles, just call me Melissa.” She can see right through him, can sense the gleam of ambition. But Melissa appreciates the fact that he tried.

“Yes, Ma’- Melissa.” He offers a kind smile, although Scott can tell that he’s analyzing his mother, which Scott elbows him in the ribs for.

“Sorry, mom. We’re gonna go get on the train before are seats get taken by some first years.”

“Aw, Scotty, but I just met your mom. I know she’s just dying to tell him something.” Melissa nods next to him, and tells Scott to go save their seat and that Stiles will be there in just one second. With a skeptical look, Scott walks toward the trains, both of their luggage in hand.

“Hey buddy, wait long?” Stiles walks in, and Scott can’t read him. It’s alright though. He’s always alright when his best friend is there.

“Nah, just getting use to the silence.”

“Well, say goodbye to that.” He said, sitting down, cracking his knuckles.

_(“How’d you know I wanted to say something?_

_“Call it magic, plus I wanted to talk to you about something too.”_

_“Keep him out of trouble.”_

_“Ma’am, not to be rude, but I can’t. Friend with a Slytherin, and it just sort of happens.”_

_“That’s not even true.”_

_“Yeah, well, friends with a Stilinski and it just sort of happens.”_

_“Just try, please. He’s a smart, sweet kid.”_

_“I have a compromise.”_

_A pause, a beat before Stiles delivers his line._

_“Boyfriends with a Stilinski are usually kept out of trouble.”_

_“Are you asking for permission?”_

_“Well, blatantly, yes.”_

_“Whatever makes Scott happy, but Stiles, I know you have good intentions. Just think it through- you’re only fourteen.”)_

 

* * *

 

 

 

It’s their fourth year, and Stiles comes into the compartment with a girl named Malia on his arm. She’s beautiful and wild and free. She’s got this grin- a grin that isn’t comparable to a star. It’s the Earth, natural and beautiful in a very discrete way. She’s a Gryffindor and her filter is close to zero.

Scott doesn’t know when to talk, and he feels clumsy in his own skin. As if his words are a game of hopscotch. He doesn’t understand the drop in his gut and the dread that builds through him, but still he smiles because Stiles looks happy with his cheshire-like grin, and she looks happy with her hands running through his hair that he’d grown out. Running fingers over the moles scatter over his face.

And Scott can picture himself doing this. His hand holding onto Stiles's pale skin which had gotten muscle. His cheeks emptier that a graveyard. Long, dark eyelashes fluttering whenever she touches him, but he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t say anything because he’d doesn’t understand why he suddenly feels this, doesn’t know how to put it in words.

_(Scott pretends not to notice the way she whispers in his ear and the way his eyes darken before he looks away from Scott, a light coloring building up on his cheeks.There’s not a lot said between the two boys that train ride.)_

 

* * *

 

 

It’s fifth year, Scott is wearing a dopey grin because this year it’s only them. And this year he knows what he wants to say- what he needs to say. It’s just, he doesn’t expect for Stiles to walk in wearing a pair of jeans and a scarlet hoodie that Scott bought for him in their first year. It’s his first time seeing him in public in anything outside the range of formal clothing. No slacks, no sweaters that dip down to show a slip of pale chest. It’s just Stiles in every way he is, the one only Scott seems to know.

“You know, getting on this train can be a pain in the ass, right?” Stiles asks, seeming all too tired, as he juts a thumb to the window where kids are being shoved into the train.

Stiles looks tired, his eyes have dark bags and his skin seems even more chalky than usual. There’s lines forming from the corner of his brown eyes, and Scott leans over and touched a gentle hand on Stiles’ arm. The contrast is large. Scott’s skin and Stiles. It looks like they are melting into each other, as if they are different but still together in that way.

Scott stares at it, but he can feel the way Stiles is watching him. Things have changed, they’re different, but they’re together. They have grown with each other and into each other. He has grown to learn the way that Stiles is watching him is with slight surprise.

When Scott looks up, he sees the expression on Stiles. It’s exaggerated and large, with that gleam in his eye. That gleam, that damn gleam that made Scott sit with him five years ago.

This is why Scott doesn’t tell him because Stiles is going through hell, and Scott doesn’t think he’d be stable enough for a relationship.

_(Stiles is barely stable enough for himself, but he tries not to let Scott see.)_

 

* * *

 

 

Sixth year is spent with a lot of kissing and fiddling with Stiles’ fine pressed shirt. It has to do with with Scott’s hair getting messier and rings on their fingers because they already know they’ll be together forever, and Stiles- Stiles is getting help. And Scott is smiling into the bottom lips, his hands moving to cup the other boy’s cheek, whispering sweet nothings in his ear.

_(“I love you, Stiles Stilinski.”_

_“Yeah, you’ll be telling me that tonight.”)_

  


* * *

 

 

The seventh year, Stiles sits in the cart. All he sees is Scotty who has broad shoulder and toothy grins, and a slightly uneven jaw. All he hear is silly muggle jokes and laughter. He hears the echoes of sunshine, feels the memory of sweet kisses. He watches the door, although he knows Scott won’t show up. Although he knows that the sun does not exist anymore. He sits there though, bones frozen, straight as a statue. His eyes refuse to gleam, and all he sees is Scott McCall sitting across from him. A bright twelve year old was plump cheeks and unsure hands. He sees every version of him, all except Scott who is twelve feet in the ground.

“Sorry, Scott. I didn’t think you’d be that loyal.”

_(And Stiles curses the Hufflepuff traits. He curses the way that Scott chose the year before the war to fall in love with him. He curses himself because if he never asked Scott into that damn cart- Scott would be alive. He’d probably be talking to some nice girl, talking about how could he possibly pass.)_

  
  


********  
  


 


End file.
